


Passion

by Dominatrix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, There sails my OTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/Dominatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had never known he could be passionate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passion

She had never known he could be passionate.

Observant, cold, perfect. Of course. So far about obvious. But this was something else. This was his _heart_ , his very soul that was bringing up these notes, this heart-ripping melody. She had never believed that a mind like his could ever bring up these kinds of feelings. Yes, he was a genius, but he was absolutely ignorant to all stimulants of intonation, subtext…and nudity. Especially this one.

She leant against the door frame, just watching him. The soft fabric of her pullover was comfortable and warm on her skin. She had missed clothes like that, comfortable and definitely not the clothes of a dominatrix. She licked her lips only to find the missing texture of her red lipstick. She had found no need to make herself up. Not in this flat. Not with Sherlock.

“I know that you’re there” a voice ripped her out of her thoughts. Sherlock was still playing, still caressing the strings with his bow and oh, how Irene wished he would caress her the way he treated his violin, like a lover that wants to experience every inch of his beloved one. Slowly and perfectly aware that he heard every single step of her, every slow breath, every low rustle of her sleeves brushing against her body. She only stopped as she stood directly behind him, still fascinated by the beautiful movements of his hands and arms, of the pure elegance his body was showing, and she couldn’t restrain herself anymore. She reached out her hand and placed it on his back, only the hint of a touch. It was not enough to distract Sherlock.

The living room was still wrapped in the wonderful tune. Irene couldn’t even say if the combination of notes was merry or sad, all she could think of was Sherlock’s warmth under the palm of her hand, the softness of his shirt and the tensing muscles underneath. Slowly she began to move her hand up, tracing his spine, counting his ribs. He wasn’t ticklish. It didn’t surprise her.

She had reached his neck, playfully burying her fingers in his hair, carefully twisting his dark locks around her fingertips.

“You know this doesn’t help me concentrate” he muttered lowly. She could almost taste his sarcasm on her tongue.

“Maybe I’m bored and just need a little attention.”

The melody broke off suddenly as Sherlock stopped playing, only to lay his violin and bow on the small table and turn around to Irene.

“What do you want?”

“I think you know this.” Her hand was still in his neck, she hadn’t let go of him. Of course she hadn’t. But she was ready to let go if he would refuse her again, she had enough pride to know when a cause was lost. And Sherlock was very close to being a lost cause for her.

His lips found hers before she could even close her eyes to feel the sensation more intense. Luckily, he didn’t stop the kiss after the first two seconds; otherwise it would have been a terrible kiss, all tense and absolutely not ready to go deeper.

But after Irene had got used to the thought of Sherlock’s lips on hers, far too hard and far too desultory she started to guide him, pulled away a little to soften his touch, placing small kisses on his upper lip, on the corners of his mouth just to kiss him again, much more gentle this time. He understood. Of course he did. He was a brilliant student. When he pulled her closer, one hand on her back, the other in her hair, she had no idea where this was supposed to go, but she didn’t mind at all.

 

She had never known he could be passionate. Sherlock proved her wrong. Quite explicitly.


End file.
